And none did love him!—though to hall and bower[28]
He gathered revellers from far and near,
He knew them flatterers of the festal hour,
The heartless Parasites of present cheer.
Yea! none did love him—not his lemans dear—[ab] [29]
But pomp and power alone are Woman's care,
And where these are light Eros finds a feere;[30]
Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare,
And Mammon wins his way where Seraphs might despair.